


After the Primes

by ValmureEld



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post Series, Redemption, Whump, and medicine, graphic descriptions of bot injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValmureEld/pseuds/ValmureEld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the age of Primes everyone must step into a new world. Scouts become leaders, medics become miracle workers, and warlords become mentors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post end of series, this mostly focuses on Megatron and Starscream, though the other bots will make appearances too. There will be no slash what so ever.

“Bee, you might want to see this.” 

Arcee was staring at one of the many monitoring screens up and running in the new tower. Their first priority after the well had been filled and Cybertron brought to peace was to begin scouting for the new lives that would surely turn up, after Optimus' sacrifice brought new hope to the restored world. Though no designated leaders had been chosen after the age of Primes ended, Bumblebee had taken point, so to say, and was as natural a leader as he had been a scout. In some ways, he still was a scout, watching screens and organizing parties of the remaining Autobots to go and help settle refugees and new sparklings alike. 

“What is it?” Bee looked up from the screen he'd been scanning, having just relieved Smokescreen so the other bot could get some rest and refuel. Though their sensors could scan all of Earth, they didn't have the power to cover all of Cybertron, and so there were three different screens each tracking a different third of the planet. Though Primus was far from cruel, he didn't really consider where new sparklings would be spawned. They didn't always crawl directly from the well. All sparks originated there, but sometimes a spark would wander for days or even years before manifesting inside a body half way across the planet from the actual well. In the old days, that wasn't a problem as Cybertronians populated the whole planet and would find any new sparklings before they could come to harm. With the barest handful of adults left however, it was vital to watch for new younglings and bring them to safety in what was becoming the new capitol. 

“A signature, but it's faint. And I don't think it's a sparkling.” 

“A refugee?” Bee asked, walking over to squint at Arcee's screen. Since the mandatory re-boot of all their systems, they had no way to identify individuals without first logging them into the database, and this signal had yet to be logged. 

“It has to be. The signature is too strong for a sparkling, but what worries me is that it's too weak for an adult. Whoever it is is going to need help, and fast.” 

“I'll get Knock Out, have a bridge ready” Bee said, sprinting off down the corridor to where the reformed Decepticon was keeping his new laboratory. Despite his predisposition for violence and unorthodox experimentation, the red mech had proven himself gentler than he looked in handling the three sparklings they'd recovered thus far. Three sparklings and a young femme who'd landed haggard and half rusted from a section of the universe they'd yet to hear anything about. She was too traumatized and too exhausted to relay any information. They hadn't even learned her name yet. What was left of her light green finish was peeling away with sickness, and through the hours the Autobots spent helping Knock Out with his mountain of work, they feared she wouldn’t survive. 

Knock Out was tending to the life-support barely keeping the femme online when Bee rushed in. His bright red optics settled on his guest with something akin to surprise. He often forgot he wasn't alone while working in the lab. The sparklings made very little noise and his adult patient couldn't make noise. Not while her voicebox was half rusted and she was in a very heavy stasis. He wiped his fingers off on a cloth and walked away from her to check on a sparkling that was stirring in its tiny berth. 

“Something wrong, Bee? Did Bulkhead's crew knock another flimsy little construction bot off the towers, because I am running out of energon to be used for injuries so pointlessly sustained.” 

Bee shook his head, heaving through his vents to cool an overheated engine. He hadn't actually gone to rest when Smokescreen had relieved him 12 hours previously. He'd gone to help Bulkhead with repairs, and he was paying for it. “No, we spotted a new signal on the tracking maps. Section 3A, Arcee is creating a bridge.”

Knock Out set down his cloth and followed Bee out, keeping up with the renewed jog back to the bridge level. “A new sparkling?”

“No, it's too strong for that. It's also not strong enough to sustain a fully grown mech for very long, so whoever it is must be wounded pretty badly.” 

“That's all we need. Is my kit still by the bridge?”

Bee nodded and they picked up their pace before skidding sideways into the bridge room, where Arcee was tapping away at the screen. 

“You're going to want to hurry, it's getting weaker. Bee, cover the screens and the bridge, I'm going with Knock Out as cover.”

“Cover from what?” the medic asked, heaving up his supply box and balancing it on one shoulder. “There are no more Decepticons and the Predacons split to the winds.”

“That we know of,” Arcee pointed out, falling into step with the hot rod. “But I don't want to risk any more injuries if our new arrival got those wounds from something on Cybertron.”

“Fair enough,” Knock Out muttered, stepping out into the darkness of their new coordinates. While the sun had just risen on their side of the planet, the side with the wounded Cybertronian was still plunged into darkness, and it took him a few blinks of his optics to adjust. Arcee was already ahead of him, her arm cannons glowing softly as she advanced. 

“We're clear. The signal was coming from over there,” she said, pointing to a badly charred building that had become little more than a cave. 

While the entire planet had been revitalized, much of its surface structures still bore the scars of their war, and the hovel they approached was a prime example. “Whoever it is, is seconds from off-lining,” Knock Out said, sprinting the last few meters to the dark little opening. His headlights flooded the collapsed space, one hand already fumbling around in his emergency kit for a vial of energon. That's when he froze. 

“Knock Out, what are you waiting for?” Arcee exclaimed, peering in and trying to see around the medic's shoulders. 

“It's--” he swallowed, inching forward, scanning the prone bot. When he glanced back at Arcee, it was with fear in his optics, as though dreading what she would do. 

“Well? Spill it, Knock Out, we don't have time for this.” 

“Megatron,” he managed, ducking into the cave and kneeling by the great silver body of his former leader. His fingers clicked softly as he placed a hand on Megatron's chassis. “He's still warm, but his spark is flickering. Severe energon depletion, among other things.” He held the energon he'd prepared in readiness, optics flicking to Arcee for permission. “He won't survive more than a few more seconds without it. Maybe a minute.” 

Arcee's jaw clenched, her optics narrowed, every evil Megatron had ever committed coming back to her. She sighed, wishing Optimus was still there to say what she knew she had to. “He's different now. Every sentient being deserves a chance for redemption. I can't let Megatron die before he's had a chance to earn his place back with the good guys.”

Knock Out nodded, plunging the needle into Megatron's arm and injecting the sorely needed energon. Holding an arm up, he ran a diagnostic scan immediately while Arcee contacted Bee and warned him and the others who exactly would be coming back to base with them. 

Megatron was a sorry sight. He was pitted with scraplet damage and his every breath wheezed through infected venting ports. Many of the changes Unicron had made to his body had either been eaten or torn off, and though he was weak he looked much more like himself. What really worried the medic was the pool of soiled energon around Megatron's body. 

Either out of instinct or purposeful action Megatron's body had purged the dark energon from his system. The problem with that was he couldn't handle as much damage, and he'd been burdened with the bad stuff for so long he barely had anything pure left inside him. Half of what flowed sluggishly behind his plates came from Knock Out's emergency vial—the rest was tinting the diseased energon with hopeful little trails of bright blue that were doing nothing for the creature they'd slipped from. On top of whatever trauma Knock Out had yet to catalog, Megatron's spark was in shock from trying to cope with an altered fuel source. 

“Can we get him back to base?” Arcee asked, her guns out again when she beheld the amount of damage on the former warlord. 

“If we do it's going to be a very delicate process, and I need to get at least six more vials of energon into him before I'll risk it. The bottom line is that he should not be functioning right now. I would bet my racing record that he is only alive because he's too stubborn to die easy.” 

“You call this easy? He's been half eaten by scraplets and he still has damage from the fight. Shouldn't that have healed?”

“It would have, if he'd had energon. By the looks of things he's been purging up the dark energon and hasn't had the ability to take in more. Not that he has the equipment to properly process it out here. Hand me the other vial, will you? And then get Bee to bring us more. I can't leave him like this.” 

Arcee set the vial in Knock Out's waiting hand and pressed two fingers to her communicator, relaying their situation and needs to Bumblebee. Shortly after, even though he was supposed to be resting, Smokescreen came running through the ground bridge with six more vials of energon clasped in his arms. 

“Woah, how is he still alive?” Smokescreen breathed, handing the vials off one by one as Knock Out siphoned them into the ailing mech. 

“That's what we're trying to figure out,” Arcee said, her arms crossed as she watched Knock Out work. 

“No, actually right now we're trying to figure out if I can stop him from falling to bits the second we try to move him. Hand me a patch, will you? He has a hole torn in his side. I didn't see it before now because his hand is practically welded to it. It will do him no good to keep pouring energon in if he's just going to trickle it back out again.” 

“Didn't you scan him? How could you miss that?” Arcee said, handing him the requested materials. 

“I was a little busy trying to make sure his spark didn't flicker out. Now, if you don't mind, shining a light? This is very delicate work.” 

He crouched over Megatron's side, gently moving the mech's clawed hand away from the gaping tear in his side. It had stopped leaking hours before, but with the influx of new energon the flow had begun again with a slow trickle. Knock Out was about to begin applying the patch when he squinted, bracing himself on Megatron's chest as he bent closer. The gasp that came out of him echoed in the small space. 

“What? Some more bad news?” Smokescreen asked, his arms still half-full of energon vials as he twisted himself into the low room, trying to see around Arcee and Knock Out both. 

“I don't know yet—could be bad, could be good. It all depends on your perspective, really.” 

Arcee rolled her eyes. “Knock Out.” 

“There's something—or should I say some one in his side.”

“IN his side? As in buried in the wound? A scraplet?” Arcee asked, shining her light more insistently. 

“No, not a scraplet, though I do think it's parasitic. Unintentionally so.” 

“Knock Out...”

The medic leaned forward and worked his fingers into the wound. Megatron's lack of response was worrying, but the bundle Knock Out freed from him was even more so. Covered in drying energon and shivering in the new exposure, the silvery creature made a small sound of distress, but appeared too weak to do anything else. 

“A sparkling?” Arcee exclaimed, optics wide. “What was a sparkling doing in his wound?”

“I have a theory, but if you don't get him back to base right now and put him in an incubator he's not going to survive,” he exclaimed, handing the sparkling over to Arcee. 

“I'll take him back Arcee,” Smokescreen offered, setting down the energon and cradling the sparkling to his chest as she relinquished it to him. “You stay and cover KO. He's going to need help getting Megatron back to the base.” 

“If we can even move him,” Arcee murmured, kneeling opposite Knock Out and placing a tentative hand on Megatron's shoulder. It took courage for her to say it, but knowing what she did about Bumblebee's history with Megatron she figured if the brave little warrior could give Megatron a second chance, so could she. When she'd radioed in the situation Bee had been silent for a long time, the echoing quiet eerily reminiscent of the days before he got his voice back. Eventually though, Bee acknowledged what was going on and got off the com link to radio Ratchet. With Megatron in such bad shape and a new sparkling to care for on top of everything else, Knock Out would get no rest without backup. Ultra Magnus was back on Earth with Ratchet undergoing physical therapy still, but Arcee was sure he could manage without the medical bot for a few days. It was tough, having only a few adults left and out of that handful only two were trained in medicine. 

“Moving him will have to happen soon, since most of this damage is from parasites and vermin, and you can bet they'll be back,” Knock Out said, bending over his patient as he worked to patch up what was left of Megatron's side.

“How did he survive a hole big enough for a sparkling to crawl in? And why was it there in the first place?” she asked, leaning across the much larger bot's body, bracing a hand on the Decepticon symbol carved into his breastplate. It had long been dark. Even before Megatron had merged with the dark energon, when he was healthy, his spark had shown a gentle pulse behind the semi-translucent armor. Now, even as dark as it was in their hovel, not a flicker could be seen beneath the sinister etching. She shifted her weight as carefully as she could to avoid further damage and pointed an additional light to aid Knock Out's work. 

“Well, the hole is as big as it is because this--” he gave a tug that shuddered Megatron's frame as a charred, half-eaten piece of bio-mech clicked loose into his servo. “Is all but scrap.” He sighed, his vents loud in the cramped space. “No more wings for Megs, I'm afraid.” He placed the remains of Megatron's T-cog in his medical kit, though he seriously doubted he could do anything with it. Megatron, without a donor, would never be able to fly or access his weapons again. His cannon might still be functional simply because it never folded back into his arm, but his sword would be locked forever. “As for the sparkling—hand me another patch, will you? I don't think it crawled in, I think he put it there.”

Arcee handed it over, a spark of worry jolting through her when she realized the cracked wheeze of Megatron's vents had gone silent, and she wasn't sure when. With his spark so weak, he couldn't afford to have his bio-mech overheat. Even a few degrees too hot would be fatal. “What do you mean he put it there?”

Knock Out either hadn't noticed the change in Megatron's condition or was working in spite of it. “That sparkling was too weak to be climbing anywhere, let alone in the exposed wound of a Cybertronian as big as Megatron.” He gestured for one of his tools and Arcee reached across herself to grab it, handing the portable soldering torch to the focused medic. “Anyway, even the way he was if a sparkling just up and decided to crawl into his side he would have reacted and pulled it out. I've seen him functional and on a warpath when no mech had a right to be. The only reason that sparkling was burrowed into his side was because he put it there, and I'd wager it was there because he had no-where else to keep it warm or hide it from the scraplets.” 

Sparks flickered their space as Knock Out worked, patching up the massive damage until he was certain the torn energon lines were no longer leaking. When he was satisfied with his patch-work he went back to siphoning the rest of the vials into his patient. 

“Okay, it makes more sense than the sparkling getting in there by himself, but why would Megatron go out of his way to save a youngling? Especially when he's in such bad shape himself?”

“Different though his goals may have been, Arcee, Megatron wanted the re-birth of our world as badly as the rest of us did. The younglings are part of that re-birth, and after Megatron's change of spark I'm not really all that surprised he was trying to help one. Even before he went through torture with Unicron I don't think Megatron could have left a sparkling to the mercy of a scraplet swarm.”

“I get that, but Megatron's always been about survival of the fittest. That sparkling might not even make it back to medbay. His fight with Unicron proved just how badly he wants to live, and protecting a youngling would only slow him down in his condition. Which, by the way, has gotten worse,” Arcee finished, her fingers clicking against Megatron's breastplate as her sensors noted the rise in temperature. “He quit venting properly at least ten minutes ago and now I don't think he's venting at all.”

Knock Out's vibrant optics widened as he placed a clawed servo next to Arcee's. “Scrap!” he cursed, scrambling for something in his kit. Only one vial of energon was left to inject, but he ignored it. 

“What?” Arcee asked, blue optics following Knock Out's scrambling movements. She knew Megatron was bad, doubted he'd make it alive back to the base, actually, but the medic was almost panicking. 

“This only happens in extreme cases,” he explained, placing a sharp tool against the base of Megatron's breastplate, feeling along the underside where it met his abdominal plating. “Almost half of our systems are built to keep the spark chamber safe, and every single one but his armor just failed. That heat building up is from systems still running energon and chemicals to his spark—but the rising temperature is going to cook his spark chamber.” His tool caught on something underneath the breastplate and a sharp click resounded. Knock Out tugged on the plating but it was stuck, and he cursed again as he began searching for a secondary latch. 

“What are you trying to do—do you need help?” Arcee exclaimed.

“I have to get his chassis open!” Knock Out exclaimed in agitation. “And he's all locked up. Everything is going to shut down around his spark in an attempt to vent the energy, and one of two equally horrible things will happen after that. Either his spark will snuff out from the lack of vital systems running, or, and you should pray to Primus this doesn't happen, his spark will try and take in the heat and it will overload, exploding with more force than I have time to explain right now. This close, it'll fry both our neural nets.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arcee grit her jaw plates and brought out her arm blades. “Cut him open.”

Knock Out's ridged head came up in alarm, his red optics wide as the moons. “No—there's too much delicate circuitry, we may as well just run and let him explode. You just hack him open and I'll never be able to put him back together again.”

“At this rate you'll be putting us all back together if I don't,” Arcee said, bracing one blade against the undercarriage of Megatron's upper chassis. Bracing her wrist with her other hand, she pressed hard and slid to the side, cleanly slicing open the softer mesh that allowed for flexibility. A hot, angry hiss of released pressure and a flood of overheated energon spilled out of the wound and Knock Out gave up arguing. Working his fingers into the mesh he felt around until he found the internal lock normally controlled by Megatron's own body. Grimacing with sympathy, he pulled it, a satisfying click releasing the locked chassis, allowing Knock Out to fold it down. 

The damage underneath Megatron's breastplate was so gruesome Arcee grit her jaw harder and covered her mouth. The only reason Knock Out didn't do the same was that his servos were already buried in the damage, trying to fumble his way through containing it. Energon lines were leaking, flares of sparking cable were jumping feebly, and the case containing Megatron's dying spark was the only thing not damaged in some way. 

“Well this has got to be the most improbable case of good-bad luck that I have ever seen,” he said, pulling a ball of metal out of the left side of the chest, holding up the remains of a dead scraplet. “He overheated because this little demon ate through half of his systems before trying to take too big a bite and getting its jaw locked on the secondary plating around his spark chamber. The only reason it didn't chew through is because the overheating cooked the scraplet a few nanoclicks before it fried the big guy.” 

“Thank Primus for small miracles,” Arcee said, deadpan and sneering at the dead scraplet in disgust. She really, really hated scraplets and couldn't understand how Knock Out was still holding one, dead or no. It was amazing really that a bot so protective of his finish would have a scientific fascination powerful enough to overcome the revulsion most bots felt. “So can we finish up and get out of here before the scraplet's buddies decide it's time for round two?”

“Yes, yes.” Knock Out waved a servo, tossing away the scraplet and diving into tying energon lines back together. When he was certain the temperature had lowered enough to be safe and the main damage had been wrapped up enough for transport he heaved Megatron's chest closed, though he left Arcee's cut uncovered in case he needed to trip the latch again. “Radio Bee for me, we're going to need help getting him through.” 

Arcee called backup while Knock Out moved behind Megatron's head and heaved his shoulders up. “Take his leg—Bee, grab the other,” he instructed just as the young warrior came through the ground bridge. 

Bumblebee's lips were pressed into a thin line and the armor around his neck was locked up and around his voicebox, but he walked steadily to Megatron's side and lifted one of the battered peds with care. Arcee glanced across Megatron to see how Bumblebee was holding up, but he wasn't looking at her. Bracing herself, she lifted the other leg and as one they all stood straight, their similar heights serving to help keep the patient steady. Slowly, they took him through the bridge and into the medical wing, laying him down on a bed as far across the room as they could afford from Knock Out's other patients. 

Ratchet was already standing in the bay, tending to the new sparkling curled in an unsteady recharge. He looked up when the three entered with their burden, but he said nothing. His attention returned fully to the sparkling's condition. 

When Megatron was laid on a berth for tending Bee and Arcee were no longer needed and backed up to allow Knock Out room to work. 

Bee knew he moved away from Megatron a little too fast to not be suspect, but he didn't care. Just because he'd forgiven his attacker did not mean that he was comfortable around him, or would ever be. Instead, he went over to Ratchet as Arcee promised to watch the screens in the main tower. 

He was grateful, really. His stint of work work work no recharge work was wearing on him, and Megatron's sudden arrival was an emotional burden he could not bear without severe distraction. As Arcee left the room she brushed past him and mumbled a gentle suggestion that he go recharge for at least two cycles. Standing over by Ratchet and keenly aware of the presence of their former enemy behind him, Bumblebee was starting to think he was going to take Arcee's advice.

“Will he live?” Bee asked as Ratchet picked up the little silver body and attached tiny wires and tubes to it. 

“I think so, given the proper treatment and enough processed energon,” the medic replied, glancing at Bee and then back at Megatron, his optics hardening at the sight of the Decepticon leader. When his gaze fell back on Bee he frowned. “You haven't been to recharge in a long time, have you?”

Bee shrugged, avoiding the medic's gaze.

“That's what I thought. Typical leader. Ultra Magnus wouldn't settle down either until I forced him, and he still has therapy to get through before I'll even think about letting him back on Cybertron. Sometimes I even had to remind Optimus to recharge. Clearly it's a trait with those who take charge.” He raised an eyebrow and placed a sterilizing field over the sparkling, walking around the miniature berth to place a servo on Bumblebee's shoulder. “Go, get some rest. I promise you we can handle things until you are ready to come back to us.” 

***  
Several hours later Bumblebee was in recharge, Arcee had switched off with Wheeljack on screen duty, and Knock Out finally finished the most pressing repairs to Megatron's internal structure. The younglings checked and double checked, Ratchet grudgingly went to Knock Out's side, crossing his arms and looking over the prone bot laying hooked up to life-support. 

“As usual, his mind is active as ever,” Knock Out observed, one servo rubbing his chin as he studied the fluctuating screens. “Sometimes I think his spark is in his head, considering how many blows he's taken and survived.”

“It would certainly make this particular case easier to swallow,” Ratchet said, running a diagnostic scan for his own curiosity. He'd already decided that, barring absolute necessity he would not be working on Megatron's case, but that didn't mean his bewilderment was gone. “From this diagnostic alone he should not have survived that.”

“He shouldn't have survived the space bridge explosion or the star-sabre, and yet here we are,” Knock Out said, gesturing. “I'm telling you, he just doesn't want to die.”

“Neither did Cliffjumper or Optimus, and yet the laws of nature granted them no favors,” Ratchet replied testily, placing a servo against Megatron's chassis to gauge temperature and internal damage. “Besides, the first two times it was dark energon that kept him going. This time he has nothing but his own power to sustain him.” 

“I wouldn't count on that...” Knock Out said, pointing to the screen, his optics wide. “Because these readings are not normal.”

Ratchet turned and squinted at the screen displaying the spikes of energy produced by each sparkbeat. The once steady peaking had turned erratic, and the breaches in Megatron's armor had begun to glow a deep red. The color was so intense it made Knock Out's optics look pale. “Something is not right, get his chassis open,” Ratchet exclaimed, tapping diagnostic notes into the computer. Knock Out hesitated for a split second before obeying. 

“Sorry big guy, but if you'd just cooperate I wouldn't have to keep doing this,” he said, tripping the internal latch again with a quick shove of his fingers into the open wound. The last thing either medic expected to see in the open chest cavity of a dying Cybertronian was a second spark, and yet...

“Uh, Ratchet?” Knock Out was staring, mouth agape. Ratchet turned around, his optics widening. 

“By the all spark....” he breathed, reaching for the bright glow coming from Megatron's sealed center. Normally, a deep, blue glow came from Megatron's spark chamber. Now, the blue was mixed with red, and the red was rising through the chamber wall to hover above the still body. Knock Out glanced at the monitors, but the spiking had slowed and Megatron's own spark was stabilizing, though still weak.

Touching a spark was the first on a list of very bad ideas medically, but Ratchet wasn't thinking when he acted. He was reacting. In moments, the tips of his fingers were enveloped by the light of the floating spark, and he felt an overwhelming sense of grief and joy simultaneously when a voice spoke out to him. 

“Hello, old friend.” 

“Optimus??” Ratchet exclaimed, and though Knock Out hadn't heard Optimus speak, he did hear Ratchet, and he looked around wildly for a clue before settling on the spark in front of him. 

“By the Primes this is getting weird.” 

Ratchet did not hear Knock Out's commentary. He was barely even aware of his presence. His optics were misting up with cleaning fluid, but he was too happy to care. “Optimus, we thought you'd disappeared into the ether with the rest of the allspark—why, how are you here?”

“The existence we occupy while within the allspark is not nearly as limited as we once thought, old friend. I have been watching you all rise above yourselves to bring a future to our home that we can all be proud of, and for that you have my deepest gratitude.”

“How could we do any less, when you--” Ratchet couldn't finish, and he felt a comforting presence reach out towards him.

“Please, do not grieve me, I am never truly gone from you. As for why I am here, this new world deserves a chance for a new start. For everyone. I found Megatron dying in the defense of the sparkling you now care for, and to keep him alive until he could be found I merged with his spark in order to give him strength. So long as you continue to watch over him, he is now strong enough to live on his own.”

“Optimus, I know you were once friends with Megatron, that he no longer fights us outright—but we have very limited resources and hundreds of impending refugees. What are we supposed to tell the returning Autobots that need help when we've run out of supplies? That we are going to save the mad warlord that drove them from their homes before we are going to care for them, for their sparkmates?” He shook his head. “Megatron has had his chances, Optimus. I don't know if I can do this.” 

“I know how difficult this is, old friend, and yet I am asking you to do it not for Megatron, but for the sparkling he was defending. Primus himself sent that sparkling to Megatron intentionally, and it is his will that Megatron earn his redemption through the care of that sparkling.”

Ratchet shook his head, his servos clenching. “You can't be serious. Let Megatron raise a child, let him have the chance to poison a new mind? We can raise the sparkling, care for it ourselves. It can be placed with a new home, once a few more refugees become settled. We have options!”

“No.” Optimus' voice was gentle, but firm. “It must be Megatron, for he and the sparkling are already bonded. They were bonded long ago when the sparkling first entered this world, thousands of years past.”

“You don't mean to tell me, that the sparkling Megatron was defending is actually a re-born cybertronian? I thought—” Ratchet sputtered, blinking as he struggled to process. “I thought that was a myth! Primus actually recycled a spark that has already lived out a life as a Cybertronian??”

“Yes, though it is not so cruel as you make it sound. He has not erased that individual's significance from his past life. He has merely given him a new chance, free of the past damages that twisted him into the cruel being he used to be. It is Primus' wish that the new sparkling be given over to Megatron to be raised once both are healthy again. I have seen into Megatron's spark, and into the torture he sustained at the hands of Unicron. He will never be Megatronus again, but neither will he ever again be the Decepticon warlord we fought for so long. He is as new as the sparkling he is meant to care for, they both simply need guidance.” 

Ratchet sighed deeply through his vents, optics flicking from the sparklings back to Optimus' spark, and then finally down at Megatron. He couldn't deny the flare of pity that passed through him at the sight of such a gravely injured bot. “Just one more question, Optimus. Did Primus tell you who the sparkling used to be?”

“Yes. And I will tell you, but consider with care before you share this information with the others, especially Megatron.”

“You can trust me, Optimus.”

“The sparkling was once known to us as Starscream.”


End file.
